350
ONCE A WEEK,
[October 22, 1859.
monkey’s — and will sometimes lick the hand of his
feeder. Though it is not to be denied he has his
tempers, and is sometimes surly, and consequently
very prickly. He was extremely light when he
first came into our possession, but after a course of
good feeding he became quite fat, and spread consi-
derably in his proportions. In a fortnight he had
cleared away every beetle on the premises, though
previously we had without effect tried every known
antidote to destroy these pests; cucumber parings
which they devoured, and which did not kill them
— as we had been assured they would — pans of
beer, with little ladders to give them access to
the liquor, which they drank and ran away again;
the topers, instead of, as we fondly hoped, drowning
themselves in the strong drink. Peter knocked
them all off, and wanted more, judging from
the noise he made every night after dark, resem-
bling a cat walking about in walnut-shells. Indeed,
Peter at first alarmed us considerably by knocking
about the saucepans and kitchen utensils with a
force, which once or twice convinced us that
housebreakers were on a visit. He made these
noises, we found, in researches after rats and
mice, with which, in its free state, the hedgehog
satisfies its carnivorous instincts. It is, indeed,
more valuable in the destruction of rats than
either cat or dog. Descending one morning early
into the kitchen inhabited by Peter, we were
horrified on seeing the floor soiled with large spots
of blood, and marks of claw-like feet in the same
sanguine colour. We examined the cat, who was
suspected of being secretly an enemy to Peter, but
Pu$8 was perfectly serene and unwounded. Then
the hedgehog was dragged out of his hole, and, to
our dismay, we found the poor creature’s eyes
were closed, one of them being apparently torn
out. The carcase of a rat, half -devoured, being
discovered, we came to the conclusion that the
creatures had been engaged in mortal combat, in
which poor Peter had lost his beautiful eyes, —
eyes of dark-blue, which though not over bright
were nice intelligent eyes. We were sorry to
think that, for the rest of his days, he must grope
in the dark; but, in a month’s time, Peter had
perfectly recovered his eye -sight, even the orb
where only a vacuum could be seen.
Peter has become a household pet, but truth demands we should not conceal his faults. He is by no means cleanly in his habits; he is untidy in his eating; and is positively addicted to thiev- ing. In winter he never appears to be warm enough, but goes about foraging for bed-clothes — stealing all the stray towels, house-flannels, and pieces of cloth or carpet which fall in his way. These are faults intolerable in the sight of tidy housewives; but somehow Peter has grown to be a necessary evil, for he keeps the house free from vermin, and therefore is quite worth the trouble he gives. It is said that this animal is invul- nerable to any poison, and that he can feed with impunity on the most venomous creatures. That he is capable of being tamed, and susceptible of attachment, the writer can vouch for. At the same time, it is suggested to every one who keeps or intends to keep a hedgehog, that he is like a good many human beings, he prefers good eating and drinking to starvation, and that his existence is prolonged or shortened according to the sufficiency of his diet. A. J.
THE SONG OF THE SURVIVOR.
here is the form of girlish mould,
Under the spread of the branches old,
At the well-known trysting tree;
With the sunset lighting her tresses of gold, And the breezes waving them fold upon fold, Waiting for me?
Where is the sweet voice with cadence deep
Of one that singeth our babe to sleep,
And often turns to see
How the stars through the lattice begin to peep, And watches the lazy dial creep,
Waiting for me?
Long since those locks are laid i’the clay,
Long since that voice hath past away,
On earth no more to be;
But still in the spirit-world afar She is tho dearest of those that are
Waiting for me.